


Hey, Part-Timer

by crowdedangels



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Stargate SG-1 Sam/Jack Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17123348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowdedangels/pseuds/crowdedangels
Summary: He jumped up from his foldaway chair as if he’d been hit with a missile and not a snowball.





	Hey, Part-Timer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleVala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleVala/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, LittleVala! You asked for 'Snowed in at the cabin' so I hope this works! Have a lovely holiday and happy new year! x

She wasn't sure what to expect when she rematerialised. A quiet part of her thought she might have found herself between the timber or maybe half in the generator. She still hadn’t been granted enough permission to futz with the technology to trust it fully.

But, she did trust Thor and he came through for her, having her recorporealise on the inside doormat of the cabin.

Not seeing Jack nor hearing him within one of the few rooms, she checked the windows to find a few feet of snow and a perfect path dredged out to the pond where he sat. 

She quickly changed out of her BDUs and into her warmest civvies, finding her hat and scarf still hanging by the door. Lamenting the fact that the tightly packed snow would be too loud underfoot to allow her to sneak up on him, she settled for tiptoeing over the porch and constituting a geometrically perfect snowball which she was glad to see impacted him square on the back of his head. 

He jumped up from his foldaway chair as if he’d been hit with a missile and not a snowball. 

“Hey part-timer,” she laughed, walking towards him on the path.

“ _ Jesus Christ _ , Carter! Almost gave me a damn heart attack!” He doubled over with his hands on his knees, his panting breaths clouding as they left his mouth. “Thought it was a bear.”

“A bear throwing a snowball?” 

“Hey this is Bigfoot country, you don’t know.” 

She laughed again, finally getting to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. It didn't feel like him - she couldn’t feel the soft solidity of the planes of his back through his thick wintry coat - but she held on all the same and pulled him in for three weeks’ worth of missed kisses.

His nose and cheeks were cold and he had a few days worth of stubble scratching at her skin. She didn't mind it. 

“When did you get in?” he asked, pulling her black beanie back over her ears. “ _ How  _ did you get in? Roads are closed back to the city.”

“Beamed.”

“Beamed? That was you? I thought it was lightening! I’ve been gone barely six months and they’re already beaming people around.”

“Thor says hi.”

“Ah,” he looked up to the pink-grey sky - more snow due - and gave a little wave. “So, a whole week, huh?”

“A whole week. Any plans?”

“Lots. Few of them require any clothing.”

She grinned, “You charmer, you.”  His hand had slid down to her back pocket, taking a handful of her ass.  “You realise the pond is iced over, right?”

He looked behind him to his set up of chair, beers in the snow drift, radio on the table and fishing pole with line out to the pond. “Ice fishing.”

“Doesn't that involve a hole in the ice?”

“If you want to talk technicalities…” he said into another kiss.

“Can I drag you away from it? Because I’m starving,” kiss, “and cold,” kiss “and wearing too many clothes.” The last kiss involved more tongue than the first and a squeeze to her ass. 

“Oh, something can definitely be arranged.” He swooped for his beers and chair while she grabbed the radio and table. 

It was an hour later when she finally got food, after reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies and a catch up amongst tangled limbs.  “So, you just left him?”

“He was annoying me. “

Jack laughed into his mouthful of beer. “McKay does that to many people.”

“We went back and got him eventually,” she pulled her knees up to her chest and picked at the toast in front of her. “Mancuso deployed a puddle jumper to collect him.”

“Did he apologise?”

“Rodney?”

He waved the spatula in a ‘point taken’ fashion. 

“He was quiet and kept out of my way the rest of the trip home so hopefully he learned his lesson.”

He plated the eggs, mushrooms and avocado in front of her. “Stop feeling guilty."

Her cheeks coloured, “I think I took it too far.”

“Rodney’s not the kind of guy you can admonish with a raised voice and a few choice words. You did great.”

She speared a mushroom, not quite believing him yet but not wanting to spoil their short time together with thoughts of Rodney McKay. “You didn’t decorate yet?”

There was a tree in the corner from his Grandpa’s lot round back, and a fresh sapling in its place for a few years’ time, but the decorations remained boxed and piled next to it. “Didn't feel right to do it without you.”

She pointed her fork towards the side table which held a statue of Santa in a grass skirt, Hawaiian shirt and lei with hips moving side to side. 

“That doesn't count.”

“Mmhmm,” she smiled. She wondered when the amazement that this was all finally happening would die down. She finished her meal and beer while Jack stoked the fire and cued Bing Crosby from the record player. He slid a fluffy Santa hat on her when she was ready, as if they could only possibly decorate a tree whilst suitably attired. She pulled at his chin, the lightly grey scruff he was sporting working with the hat.

Jack plugged in the fairy lights while Sam checked and changed bulbs, giving directions while he strung them around the tree. Satisfied, the generic baubles came next, then the meaningful ones; some from his childhood, his parents’ and even one precious and delicate one from grandparents’. There was a hand coloured one of Charlie’s and a small kindergarten photograph that had been put in a small snow globe with string. “He hated picture day. Never smiled until he got to second grade.” 

They had bought a decoration in a town a few months previous - both unwillingly drawn towards the tinny music and warm cinnamon smell of a year-round Christmas shop. They had had a slow, scenic drive to the cabin, stopping wherever they had wanted on the way with no one to tell them different. She had almost a month of banked leave and he had just retired; no one questioned the timing of her sudden departure from the Mountain nor active duty. (Well, Vala had questions but none Sam would deign to answer and certainly not at work).

Jack took the small ceramic wreath - labelled with 2010 on the big red bow - and passed it to Sam to place. She hung it on a centre branch and gave him a kiss while he grabbed the other they had purchased - a Roswell grey alien with a santa hat and a candy cane in its hand. It was still making him chuckle when he placed it on the tree. 

Sam nudged his shoulder and gestured to the newly falling snow, his path quickly filling with a new layer and both laughing as Bing and Rosemary Clooney began to sing ‘Snow’. 

Happy with how the tree looked, they took a step back and checked for any they had forgotten. The shiny fronds of old tinsel caught Sam’s eye and she pulled out a seemingly never ending string of gold and green. Dust and thin bits of its ribbon fluttered about as she considered the pooled length in her hands. 

“We should have put that on before the baubles,” Jack commented. “...What?”

Her lips twitched into a smile, “I have another idea for it.”  She kept hold of the ends and spun the middle over his head and pulled gently until he stepped forward and found her lips. 

His hands were free to roam and roam they did; over her jeans, under her tee, through her hair. She whimpered against his mouth, his long fingers toying with her breasts and bringing her nipples into hardened points that begged for more attention.  

Though she still held the tinsel - and part of her wondered  _ why - _ she was able to hold him close to her, slipping her fingers and the tickly decoration up his back, feeling a shudder run through him. “I like this idea,” his voice vibrated against the skin behind her ear.  

She smiled, her hand smoothing down to the front of his jeans, “This wasn't the idea.” With a flick of her wrists, she wrapped the length of the tinsel further around her arms and turned in his embrace, guiding him to the bedroom. 

Her lips tipped to a grin as he growled, either from her dominance or how his hips grinded into her backside, she didn't know and didn’t care. 

He kicked the door closed when they got to the room, following her lead with his mouth attached to any skin he had access to. He was told, in no uncertain terms, to remove his shirt and lie down. Ever the dutiful flyboy, he obeyed the orders, watching with delightful arousal as she pulled the tinsel through her fingers and leant over him to attach his wrists to the wrought iron headboard. He put his mouth to good use as she leant over him, her breasts within sucking distance. 

“This,” she said to his ear then his lips, “was my idea.”

His hips canted from the bed, “Good idea. Great. Best idea yet.” 

She stripped slowly, tantalisingly, warming everywhere as his eyes darkened to the shade that had kept her warm on all those nights away. His jeans went next, her tongue following their path off then retracing the way up on the other leg. He craned his neck to watch her, a softness of appreciation and wonder at his luck coupled with a breathtaking desire and want.

He couldn't watch her long however, not with his eyes rolling back and head lolling back to the pillow when her lips wrapped around his length, her blue eyes staring straight at him. He may have sworn a bit but he couldn't be sure. Her hand twisted in time with her mouth and, yep, he definitely swore that time. Loudly. 

When her name became a chant - his strength being split between not thrusting uncontrollably into her warm, wet mouth and not losing everything there and then - she backed off, slowing her ministrations and allowing his breathing to become almost normal. 

She stripped while he regained his faculties, straddling his thighs and rubbing soothing pressure into where he had pulled on the loose tinsel restraints.  “You okay?”

“Mmm.”

“Still with me?”

“ _ Mmm _ .”

She shimmied her hips, sliding along his length and using him to nudge at her clit. His repeated his noise but more from his chest this time, his eyes still tightly shut. She liked that she could reduce her former CO to monosyllabic and animalistic noises in a snow covered cabin after all those years of fantasies of doing just that. 

She watched as his hands began to flex into fists and decided to bid him mercy, taking hold of him and guiding him to her entrance. She slid down slowly, tortuously if she read into how much his eyes were screwed shut. “Jack…” She smoothed her hands up his chest, resting over his heart and letting him return to his senses again.

His thighs twitched beneath her, thrusting up into her just slightly, then with more effort. She let him do what he wanted, what he could, enjoying the sensations though quickly climbing to where she would need  _ more _ .

She began to join in, setting a rhythm and encouraging him on to meet her. 

“Touch… I want…” he ground out.

“I know.”

“ _ Fuck,  _ Sam…”

“I know.” She sped up, the muscles in her thighs quivering at the exertion. “Like that,  _ yes,  _ God Jack...”

Her mind was fogging with pleasure, with singular need. She leant forward, gasping at the change in angle as he bent his knees to add more leverage to his thrusts, finding his lips and tongue and quickly mimicking their penetrating movements. “Cart-...Sam, fuck  _ Sam _ .”

His thrusts began to falter, a grunt sounding each time he buried to the hilt within her, his hands as fists in the ties and toes curled into the bed spread. Her name was barely on his breath as he came; his body tensing and stilling, almost throwing her off with the power at which he found his release. 

His final jolt within her hit something that made her see stars, her head falling to his shoulder as she groaned out his name. She collapsed against him, coming back to herself with kisses being placed into her hair. 

“So, still thinking about Rodney?” 

She chuckled, kissing his chest and moving off him to his side. “Rodney who?” 

“That's my girl.”   
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
